


If You Ever Need Holding

by templeg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, First War with Voldemort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MWPP Era, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:05:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeg/pseuds/templeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius tells Remus he knows. MWPP-era, second year</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Ever Need Holding

Remus dawdles, folding his things, making his bed as slowly as possible. He looks in the dormitory mirror, smoothing his jumper, his hair. He looks more or less normal, only slightly paler than usual. There’s a pencil smudge on his nose, which he rubs off with his thumb. It’s a pointless ritual- making himself as clean as possible, folding his clothes in a corner of the Shack in a neat pile- but it gives him a feeling of control until the last possible second. When he was younger, he used to sit on the bed, naked, legs together, back ramrod-straight like his mother taught him to do in company, as though good manners might somehow overcome the beast, send it slinking away with its tail between its legs. Nowadays he anticipates the pain, curling up in the foetal position with his arms wrapped around his head. He knows this is what he will do when the pain hits anyway, but the less he moves when it does come, the more of a victory it is.

            He bumps into Sirius on the staircase. He looks up at Remus with worried eyes.

            ‘Going to visit your mum?’

 

            ‘Mmm.’ He doesn’t want to get into a conversation with Sirius right now, or anyone for that matter. Irrationally, he’s always afraid his eyes will have gone wolf-coloured, or he’ll have grown fangs or something, and they’ll run away. He needs to get away from everyone as soon as possible. There’s about forty-five minutes until the full moon.

            Sirius opens his mouth and closes it several times, then says,

 

            ‘I hope y- she’s OK. Your mum.’

 

            Sirius isn’t meeting his eyes and it’s making him nervous. ‘Thanks.’

 

            Sirius runs his hand through his hair. ‘Does it- is she in a lot of pain?’

 

            Remus’ eyes fill with tears. He blinks them away. _You’ve done this hundreds of times. What’s the point in crying?_

 

            ‘Yes.’ It comes out in a whisper. ‘It’s- it’s bad.’

 

            Sirius looks terrified as he steps up towards Remus. He fidgets for a second before pulling Remus into a bone-shattering hug. He’s muttering something into Remus’ collar, over and over, something Remus can’t quite make out. Then he’s gone, sprinting up the stairs towards the dormitory.

            Remus is climbing through the portrait hole when he realises what it was.

 

                        _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

*****

 

            Remus finishes folding his clothes. He crosses the room and lowers himself to the dusty floor, right in the middle, drawing his knees up to his chin. He tenses every muscle, creating a barrier around himself, to keep it out, _keep it out, keep it out._

            It makes no difference.

 

            It’s worse than he remembers. It’s always worse than he remembers.

 

*****

 

            The pain wakes him up in the early hours of the morning. Every part of him aches; taking a breath sends waves of nausea through him. He opens his eyes as slowly as possible. Even his eyelids ache. All he can see is a lot of white. As his vision focuses, he recognises the ceiling of the hospital wing. There’s someone leaning over him, too small to be Madam Pomfrey. Besides, they’re wearing Gryffindor robes. He blinks several times. Sirius swims into view. He’s staring at Remus, horrified, and when he sees that his eyes are open, he jumps back.

            _Oh Merlin. Why would I be in the hospital wing? How did he know I’d be in the hospital wing? Think, think-_

            ‘Merlin. You look like crap.’

 

Remus tries to smile, but it hurts too much. ‘Thanks for that. I appreciate it.’

 

            Sirius hovers, eyes roaming over Remus’ bruised, bleeding face. He chews his bottom lip. ‘Remus…I sort of know. About you, I mean.’

 

            Nausea that has nothing to do with his transformation rises into his throat, and his heart thuds dully. He turns his face away. _This is the end. You always knew it had to end._

 

            ‘I’ll ask if I can sleep here from now on.’

 

            ‘What?’ Sirius is horrified. ‘Remus, why would I-’

 

            ‘You don’t have to pretend. Just…forget it. You don’t have to be anywhere near me anymore. I’ll ask Madam Pomfrey.’

 

            ‘Why in Merlin’s name wouldn’t I want to be around you?’

 

            It almost sounds like he means it. It’s that that makes Remus start to cry, even though he never cries. It’s one of his most important rules. He buries his face in the pillow, shoulders shaking, and mutters, ‘Go away.’

 

            ‘Remus, mate-’

 

‘ _GO AWAY!’_ It comes out as a scream. ‘Don’t, _don’t_ pretend you still want anything to do with me, it’s not _fair_. I know I’m a monster, you don’t have to pretend not to be scared of me. It isn’t your fault and I always knew this would happen and I did- I did hope it might last a bit longer before you found out, but it _didn’t, did it,_ so please just _go away_.’ He gasps for breath. His face is burning and sticky with tears.

            ‘Remus, Merlin’s bollocks!’

 

            Sirius’ hands are dragging Remus around to face him. He looks completely deranged. ‘I don’t _care_ , I _don’t._ Don’t look at me like that. It _doesn’t matter._ We are _Marauders,_ we stick together, one for all and all for one or something to that effect. You’re not going to grow claws and kill me right this second, so _what does it matter?_ ’

 

            Remus blinks up at him, bewildered. Sirius wrings his hands like Lady Macbeth. ‘ _Please_ don’t be a twat about this. I realise it must be difficult, you’re a twat about most things-’

 

            ‘I might’, Remus mumbles.

 

            Sirius looks nonplussed. ‘Eh?’

 

            ‘Grow claws and kill you right this second. You never know.’

 

            Sirius snorts. There is a pause. ‘Do James and Peter know?’

 

            ‘I reckon so. We all sort of figured it out after that homework, I think.’

 

            Remus nods and pulls himself up on his elbows. Sirius plonks himself into the chair by Remus’ pillow, regarding him with his chin in his hands. ‘It’d take more than that for me to stop talking to you, mate. I’m an inbred maniac with a family tree like a ball of knitting and you still talk to _me.’_

            There’s another pause while Remus wipes his nose messily on his pyjama sleeve (and is instantly horrified with himself). ‘It’s really bad, isn’t it?’ Sirius asks quietly. Remus nods. ‘We’ll help you.’

 

            ‘There’s nothing you can do. I’ve managed so far.’

 

            ‘No. Shut up.’ says Sirius. ‘We’ll think of something. Trust me.’

 

            He knows there isn’t anything, doesn’t expect anything to change. But knowing that he has friends like this, that he isn’t being abandoned- it’s enough. Then Sirius gives him a gentle shove. ‘Budge over.’

 

            ‘Wha-‘

 

            ‘I came down here at five in the morning, the least you can do is give me some room.’ Remus opens his mouth to protest as Sirius climbs in beside him and gets a mouthful of black hair for his trouble. He lies stiffly, trying not to touch Sirius. He has no idea what bed-sharing etiquette might be, especially in the narrow hospital wing beds. But Sirius laughs and wriggles close to him, laying his head alongside Remus’ on the pillow.

 

            ‘Nighty night, then.’

 

‘Sirius, the sun’s almost up-’

 

‘Shhhhh. Nighty night.’

 

Sirius is asleep in seconds, snuffling like a puppy only an inch away from Remus’ ear. Remus watches him. Asleep, Sirius looks almost sane; there’s no manic gleam in his eye, no terrifying grin. _He has lovely eyelashes_ , thinks Remus, and then mentally smacks himself on the head because this is not the sort of thing boys are supposed to think about their mates, even mates they’re sharing a bed with. He can feel his eyelids sagging with exhaustion, but he fights to keep them open. He wants to keep looking, savour the joy of having a friend like Sirius. He can sleep any time.

Madame Pomfrey comes in an hour later to check on Remus and finds them curled up together, almost nose-to-nose, Sirius’ arm flung protectively over Remus. Remus shouldn’t be cramped onto the very edge of the bed, not with his bruises, and Sirius is bound to get goodness-knows-what on the sheets, but she doesn’t wake them. Her eyes sting as she walks away. Behind her, Sirius dreams of chasing wolves.

 


End file.
